Blood Sport
by kougasl0ver
Summary: Modern Day. In the aftermath of a world-ending plague, a new form of sport arises from an old source. Will Inuyasha and company survive or fall to the twisted blood sports? Please read and review!


Prologue

The damaged Mustang slid around a bend, tires struggling for grip on smooth, wet pavement. Steering into the power slide, the driver kept the gas pedal down and drove through it. Accelerating, he swerved around a pair of wrecked cars, his target barely a half mile away. Shifting up a gear and flooring the motor rewarded him with a surge of power and for a second the human male thought he was home free.

Then it all fell apart.

The sudden sound of a rocket engine competed with the roar of the Mustang's 4.6 liter V8, and then it was all over. A Russian Armory Type-7 Rocket Propelled Grenade struck the damaged rear of the sports car, and detonated. The pressure wave simply lifted the entire back end of the vehicle as the gas tank punctured and ignited. A second explosion succeeded in flipping the car onto its roof, the vehicle skidding to a stop upside down and on fire.

Noises could be heard from the cabin after a moment. Moans of pain and anguish as the occupant found himself alive and helplessly trapped in the wreck. He had been so close, so near to freedom and now he was pinned in a broken and burning heap of mangled steel. And as a number of hideously disfigured humanoids stalked towards the vehicle, his moans and future screams were met with no sympathy, especially not from the cameras which silently recorded the event.

And sitting in a dark office watching his dream come to fruition, a very, very evil man smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~Five years prior~~~~~~~~~~~

The Death Plague had come without warning. Supposedly unleashed by a disturbance in the Mid-Atlantic ridge, the hideous illness appeared and had been picked up by boatmen passing through. Bringing it back to New York, they unknowingly unleashed what would go down as an almost successful Armageddon.

The name itself was a media spawned irony really. Though the Death Plague was lethal and left piles of bodies in its wake, the illness' true horror was spared on those who were killed by it. The real effect was the disfigurement it caused in its victims, the mutations and the rage. Those who came down with the virus quickly found themselves attacking the uninfected, damaged minds wanting only to spread the infection and butcher those who had been spared its horrible effects.

Despite the combined efforts of the world's militaries, the illness couldn't be stopped. By the time it was identified as a contagious virus, it had gone global. Cities turned to little pockets of hell, infected humans slaughtering any who were caught in their paths. As governments destabilized and countries fell to panic and sickness, a plan was hatched.

Taking a page from the book of triage, the decision was made to erect fortifications, isolated pockets of civilization. Using corporate funding the remaining governments established as many survivor colonies as possible, outposts carefully kept free of the Death Plague. Quarantine and advanced screenings were used to ensure that incoming survivors were free of the virus, and when it was detected, containment was brutal. Entire community blocks were sealed and left to die along with the one or two actual victims. Resisting was fatal, no questions asked. And not even that could keep the Death Plague. Within months a third of the communities were overrun.

The only real survivors of the outbreak had been the corporations that funded the outposts. The crippled government didn't have any real physical power, nor the money to acquire it. The corporations did. As they built the fortifications, they imposed their own rule and paid to have it enforced. With time the situation stabilized; life in the forts was mostly safe, life outside them was almost assured death.

Of course a caste system formed almost instantaneously, thousands competing for brutally limited amounts of space. Money became the measure of justice, of power, and of right. For those on top, life was much like before the outbreak. For those on the bottom, the streets were still cold and unforgiving, and now there was the very real threat of prison or exile for the smallest of crimes, all enforced by a guilty until proven innocent justice system.

It was in this new and harsh world that an old idea was reborn, one that had enjoyed immense success before and ran on an old principle of the human psyche.

Feet silently padding on the heavy carpet, Naraku Onigumo entered the upper meeting room of the New York outpost. Gathered were basically the most powerful men in the world, or soon to be the most powerful. A group of corporate CEO's well connected politicians and other general scum with the ability and disposition to run the shattered world outside the secure gates. Naraku was a former CEO himself, not the highest of the high but powerful enough to have called the meeting together.

Standing before the group, he turned on his computer and connected it to their projector, the screen coming to life with his brainchild, a money maker that would generate funds from across the world if all went as planned.

"Good morning gentleman and thank you all for coming. Now I'm sure you're all wondering what this is about so let's cut to the chase. What I'm proposing is a way for this organization to make serious, sustainable income from the other outposts while keeping our own residents contented and free from rebellious thoughts."

"Really, and just how do you plan to do that?" One of the more cynical members of the elite group asked of the spider hanyou.

"It's simple actually; I'm just borrowing a page from the Romans. While of course they were masters of Science and the arts and medicine, one thing they also understood is the human psyche, that people naturally love violence. And that is exactly the source of my idea."

"Well, it's a far cry from Roman times to now isn't it? They certainly didn't have the Death Plague to contend with oh so long ago."

"No, but where you see a crutch I see an opportunity. They didn't have it to contend with, and they didn't have it to exploit. While we live in a very different time, the mind of a normal human hasn't changed a bit. Even when the people were starving they would drop their worries to go see some bloody entertainment. Especially in the Coliseum, its towering heights drew the people en masse to see the gory entertainment staged within.

Gladiators fighting animals and fellow man, chariot races, ship battles, the Coliseum kept the denizens of Rome captivated with its gory spectator sports. Everyone from the Emperor to the lowest peasant came to see the events and cheer on their favorite proud warrior. And that is what I'm offering, albeit on an even grander scale. While the Death Plague has decimated society, its infrastructure still stands.

Think of the possibility lying in wait outside the fortress walls. From the moment you step outside the world is a gauntlet, ever changing and reliably lethal. Think if we made our own Coliseum on the ruins that stand out there. Or if we made it from them. Imagine if you will a Coliseum the size of New York City."

"You aren't seriously suggesting we-"

"I most certainly am. NYC is a desolate hellhole. However, it's a hellhole with a labyrinth of roads, buildings, bridges, tunnels, waterways, train lines, alleys, etc. And it has a staggering number of cameras already in place, still ready to be the silent observers of the city. Add in the thousands of infected still alive within and you have a game field unlike any other. A city that is as alive as it is dead."

"Alright, you may be on to something here, but how exactly do we capitalize on this?"

"It will require several stages. The first step will be to restore power to sections of the city, via selectively reactivating some of the power grids. Once we have the power we need, stage two can begin. Stage two will entail rewiring the existing cameras and microphones in the city to record for us and transmit back with the footage. Stage three will require us to wire in new cameras and a complex microphone system to record every second of the action in high detail.

Stage four; we will need to find people willing to participate in the events. Prisoners, people facing exile, the most destitute, and the glory hungry should provide an ample supply of volunteers. Though measures should be taken to insure that they don't see footage of prior events, so they don't have an advantage nor will they see just how gruesome the area is.

Stage five; airlift in food, water, weapons, ammunition, fuel, possibly vehicles and equipment. The infected in the city are the enemies at hand. While their rage and anger will drive them to commit horrific atrocities, we want to make sure they aren't just cannon fodder for any decently equipped warrior.

Finally, layout different games and courses, offer the videos for a fee, and enjoy the profits."

The members of the board all had to admit that the idea was interesting, and could bring in some serious capital.

"Saying we were interested in backing this Naraku, what would the costs be and how long would it take for the city to be ready to host these games?"

"Costs would entail several million dollars. The cameras and audio equipment are expensive, as is paying people to enter the infected zone and get everything running again. Add in the costs to airlift supplies in and equip the gladiators, along with unexpected costs, setup for broadcasting the footage, etc. It will likely require several years to become fully operational, due to the amount of work that needs to be done in the hostile zones. Also, we will need time to recruit competitors, train them for the games and equip them."

"Thank you very much Naraku, if you would give us a few minutes to confer..."

"Of course."

Exiting the room, the man walked over to one of the skyscraper's large windows, staring down at the flocks of uninfected walking the streets. It took just a few minutes before he was called back in, and the look on the faces of his potential benefactors was that of a young child's Christmas morning.

"We've talked it over and we all think it's a fantastic idea. If you are alright relegating your current duties over, you can head this project and start immediately. You've got full clearance on our funds; do whatever you need to do to make this a reality."

"Thank you all very much, I promise you all it will be more than worth it. Now if you'll excuse me, there's much to do and so little time to do it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present Day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New York Outpost, 2016

"And so you see my dilemma, Mr. Takahashi. My brainchild is going to be legendary, but without participants it can't get off the ground."

"Sorry to hear about it, and I'd love to join up with your little freak show, but you must have missed the sign outside, it reads Death Row. As in, I'm about to be knocked off by our oh so wonderful government."

"That's precisely why I'm here. I know of your talents, I've seen you behind the wheel in your races before everything went south. You're skilled Mr. Takahashi, very skilled, and that's why I want you. You see, this prison, much like everything else, is corporate owned and managed now that our government is incapable of protecting the citizenry."

"So is this where you offer me a get outta jail free card if I play ball?" The half-demon offered up, sarcasm dripping into his words.

"I would've phrased it more eloquently, but yes. If you participate, and win, release papers will be signed in your name. Additionally, your record can be cleaned and you can be provided with new living accommodations, financial assistance; the whole nine yards. All you need to do is get behind the wheel, and drive."

"It sounds great but they took my license when I was arrested." A look of mock sorrow shifted Inuyasha's face as he shifted in the metal chair they'd put him in.

"Trust me Mr. Takahashi; a ticket will be the least of your concerns in the Death Race. I won't bullshit you, you will probably die. Your death may be quick, or it may be prolonged and horrific depending on your luck and your performance. Even if you do make it out, the experience may leave you insane from the trauma.

But, there is a chance, albeit a small one, that you do survive intact. That you come back from that hellhole that was once a booming metropolis alive and well. And if you do, you get a new start for your efforts. Sitting here, you have no chance; only a date with a needle of sodium pentothal. It's your choice really; die here in this cage or fight to get your life back.

Here's my card, I've informed the guards to let you call me anytime. If you'd rather risk dying on your feet than living on your knees, as much as being in death's shadow can be called living, give me a call. Good day Mr. Takahashi."

Inuyasha pocketed the small paper after watching the spider hanyou exit the cell. Sitting, he contemplated his options. Pulling the card out, he ran a finger over the number, feeling the glossy risen numbers against the smooth paper of the card.

"Oh, fuck me."

~~~~Page Break~~~~

Hey, there's chapter one of blood sport.


End file.
